


コワレヤスキ: Shaman King

by SaeranVJ



Category: Shaman King (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anna Doesn't Exist so Don't ask, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, More tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaeranVJ/pseuds/SaeranVJ
Summary: Kowareyasuki. Fragile Love. This is the big boy fic. This....is Saeran VJ's story during the shaman tournament. I suck at writing synopsis so...yeh.
Relationships: Asakura Yoh/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	コワレヤスキ: Shaman King

“Hrm...So this is Yokocha Naval Base…”

  
  
Standing towards the entrance of the naval base with luggage in tow, the rather tall young man spoke in a soft, deep quivering voice. The base itself felt otherworldly as a plane flew over everyone in the location. The teen winced as his ears ached from the loud volume of the jets, but he shook his head regardless. His ice blue eyes scanning the area, he saw concession stands replacing the parking spots for planes. At the end of the parking lot for planes rose a multi-storied steel-built building with a communication tower crowning the top. 

He took a step forward, seemingly bracing himself as his posture cowered. _Curse being so tall…_ He assumed that, despite his appearance suggesting he was near the age of eighteen, he was among one of the youngest shamans in this foreign melting pot. His mind told his body to fade to the background, but his steel-toed boots kept forward.

Cautious glances casted around the base, the foreign teen took note of all the different concession stands. His stomach growled in longing, and he casted a hand over his exposed midriff. “...Oh. I haven’t eaten since I boarded the flight,” the boy mumbled. 

  
Stopping nearest a concession stand for chocolate-covered bananas, the feminine boy stepped to the side, taking the time to drink in this new environment as the world around him began to feel dream-like. Party pennants hanging between all the streetlight poles. Several stands side by side by side, all selling different foods and beverages. Many, many different cultures and ethnicities as far as his eye could see. _So...many people. They don’t even feel re-_

“...ou going to buy anything, young man?”

  
  
... _He was talking to me?_ The boy tilted his head as he leaned forward, his raven bangs drooping down. _I don’t wanna be rude though…_ “Um...How much are they?”

  
  
“Cheap!”

  
  
“...” _Does this guy think he’s funny?_ “Give me a second please…” Reaching in the back pocket of his shorts, he pulled out a single one hundred dollar bill. He averted his gaze as he daintily held the bill between his fingers, offering it. “Take it. Keep the change please.” 

The long black-haired man stared with sharp eyes widened. Beady irises exchanged between the teen’s flushed cheeks and the miraculously-neatly-creased Benjamin. Hesitantly, however, the man took the bill into his slightly worn hands. The taller teenager watched as neither of the muscular men made any attempt to even remotely offer change. _Typical grown men,_ the lanky boy thought bitterly, taking the wooden stick of the chocolate-dipped treat. _They have little to no regard for others and take whatever they-_

“Wait a second Silva, this guy doesn’t have an oracle pager.”

“...Hmm? You just now noticed?”

“You cannot be here if you do not have a pager. Please leave the premises and don’t make thi-”

“Would you...like me to give you frostbite?” A shadow gently casted over his eyes now as his voice grew darker in tone.

Silence. The “Silva” man alongside the wavy-long-haired one both stared at the teen, whose tone was eerily calm upon saying such a grotesque threat. The tone who gave the threat, currently eating the chocolate-dipped banana, had his gaze upon the two, the stare as icy as the blue that painted his irises. He tossed the wooden popsicle stick into the trash can beside him. “About that…” 

He stepped out of the shadows of the concession stand into the light of the sunlight. “Mayhaps...Namari is around?” 

Now the two grown men were on edge. It was obvious, as the air around grew frigid, that this kid was a threat. The kid in question took the time to adjust his fingerless black gloves, careful not to damage his black gel nails. “Young man,” Silva began, voice sturdy and absolute despite the potential danger. “This is the last time I’m asking. Please. Leave. Th-” 

An ice spike erupted from the ground below their food stand, splintering the wood and dividing the cloth in a haphazard half.

The uneven facets of the diamond-like ice reflected on the boy’s icy blue eyes, and as quickly as it appeared, it shattered like glass shards with a flick of his wrist upwards. In his hand was a rather elegant tessen, clashing with his rather brooding appearance as he carried the fan with grace. With a voice angered yet steady, he hissed, “Saeran VJ. I challenge you two alongside Namari. I don’t care how long it takes.” 

What was previously a bustling gathering of shamanic participants became hushed silence. It was the kind of silence that drove VJ to disconnect. _All their eyes...on me...I love it._

_I hate it._

His sheer-cold eyes analyzed the two men’s movements. Silva seemed to be discussing something with the other guy, presumably in regards to what to do with him. VJ’s head whipped around when he heard approaching footsteps, his eyes landing on a man in a Patch Tribe cloak. Dangling from his hand is what VJ could only assume was the oracle pager they were talking about. _This must be…_ “You’re Namari, I assume?”

“If it isn’t the dead-beat contestant~”

... _This dickhead thinks he’s_ funny! “You don’t know shit. Just cuz I didn’t show up for the prelims don’t mean I didn’t desire to.” 

“So you think a temper tantrum is going to have me hand this to you?” The tone of voice the man gave was unbelievably smug, and the smile that broke on his face and between his long parted bangs made the smug even more apparent.  
  


Eyebrow twitch. _This. Mother. Fucker. Here._ “Just humor me. You, Silva, and the other guy versus me. If I win against you three, I prove my worth and get my pager to advance. If I lose, I’ll never show my face again. But I assure you…” Taking a step forward, VJ bent forward, his eyes glowing even through the shadow cast upon his face. “I wouldn’t propose this idea if I didn’t have full confidence I’d win~”

At this point many a fight-starved shaman seemed to have gathered around the chaos VJ instigated. Any previous signs of dislike to the eyes on him, _the attention_ on him, seemed to have been replaced with bliss. _More...More! More more moremoremoremore watch me more watch more me!!!!_

_  
_ _  
_ “...Your confidence sure is something for a shaman with no guardian ghost, VJ,” Namari, with a bit of snark, adjusted his cloak. “If it’ll keep you from crying, _I suppose_ we could entertain your request.”

“More like I don’t think this guy would take no for an answer easily,” the wavy black-haired one spoke before VJ could. 

_Motherfucker._

“But of course~ You wouldn’t believe how expensive my luxury flight was~” With a disgustingly smug sneer, VJ ran his slender fingers through his bangs, activating his oversoul once more. “Don’t you know~? We Louisianians _adore_ suing people for every penny they have~!”

With one look around, the teen saw all three men activate their oversouls. Silva’s oversoul was overly complicated to VJ. Feathers on the head, rings on his finger, leg attachments, arm attachments...all of it felt like too much to VJ. At least the other guy with the wavy hair had some more subtlety in terms of how much he had going on- only leg attachments -but even then, the downside to him was it looked bulky. _No style...Yuck…_

Silva and the other guy didn’t seem so eager, but Namari appeared to harbor some inner anticipation. _That’s right...You were drawn to me and wanted to test me so bad._

_I won’t disappoint~!!_ _  
  
_

“Let’s make this quick,” Silva spoke this time, and as if an invisible gun shot a bullet into the sky, the three rapidly approached the asian boy.

"...'Make this quick'...eh..?"

All there was...was a sneer on VJ's face, the freezing cold air seemingly dancing around him. With a calm voice and eyes closed, the ravenette reached his hand towards the sky and ushered in Korean, "Ssanghwajeom..." *

It was over in an instant. A glass-like ice flower. A trio of frozen men. Then a crisp snap of the Korean's fingers. The ice shattered under the snap's echoing command, drifting away in the breeze in a form reminiscent of rose petals. 

His icy eyes fell upon the men before him. It was painfully obvious to him that they were wasted in terms of strength. His eyes narrowed. “How was that for ‘make this quick’?”

The three looked at one another before Namari tossed VJ’s oracle pager to his steel toed boots. 

_He threatened to stop you, ya know? He was ready to send you home._

“...”

Namari tossed the handcrafted tech to VJ’s feet, the tinks echoing a little to VJ as the Patch Officiant began to explain to VJ how to use the device. However, the Korean teen wasn’t too particularly interested. No...rather the sounds around VJ became muffled. The shamans and their fearful murmurs. Namari’s explanations on the device by his feet. All of it as his icy irises slowly shifted to pink. _Yeah...that’s right...Namari was gonna send me back to him...had I not...If I didn’t-_

“ _Veevee!_ That’s _enough!_ You proved your point!!”

“...” _It couldn’t...be…_ “...Y...Yii...yii?”

The cold teen’s previously sharp posture seemed to melt when the soft but stern voice spoke. It echoed in his ears and his mind, and he clung to them as if his life depended on it. His grip on the ice sword loose-

_Wait...Ice sword..?_

His vision focused on the scenario before him. The tip of his icy blade directed towards the jugular of a shocked Namari, the shrine maiden-style sleeves that now adorn his arms, the heels that made his already inflated superiority complex in regards to his height even _larger._

He had unknowingly oversouled into his Ice King OS. 

“...” The frigid icicle melted into a puddle nearest his feet. Just as suddenly and surprisingly as he oversouled, so too did he feel himself return closer to the ground as the form disintegrated. His vision gradually fell upon a rather short brunette; or rather, the brunette and his high-grade katana pointing menacingly. “Y...Yiiyii..?”

The shorter teen’s posture loosened, visibly relieved as he lowered his sword. He undid his own oversoul, a samurai spirit hovering behind him as a result. The soul was silent yet foreboding as the teen before him sheathed the sword with a nice _click._ Standing straight the boy closed his eyes happily, smiling up at VJ with only one thing to say in response:

“Likewise...Veevee! Ueheheh!”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


  * “Ssanghwajeom” means “A Frozen Flower”




End file.
